


To Madness

by JuliaBC



Category: Zorro (TV 1957)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBC/pseuds/JuliaBC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WDZ. Drabbles. He loves me, he loves me not takes on new meaning for Constancia de la Torre when she continues to play it as she grows up and meets new people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To Madness

* * *

Chapter One: Age Ten

* * *

_(He loves me) A little_

_A lot_

_Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"I am not a little child that must be led by the hand!"_

* * *

Constancia watched her mother dress, and she wiped her tears away.

"Why can't I go, _mamacita_?"

"You are too young, _mi querida_. This is for men and women, not little girls."

"But I like dancing and music!"

Her mother swept over, smelling of sweet perfume that overwhelmed Constancia's senses. When she was bigger, she wanted to be just like her _mamacita_. She wanted to be beautiful and sweet smelling and dressed in beautiful clothes, all the time, not just for fiestas.

"Now, you must behave and obey Tia Miranda. We'll be back in the morning."

Her mother kissed her and Constancia watched her go. She ran out to the balcony and watched. Her father was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her mother, and she saw his whole face light up when he saw her. He picked her up and spun her around, both laughing and Constancia sighed. She wanted to go to the fiesta.

And then she had an excellent idea. She would go to the fiesta. Tia Miranda was in the kitchen. Constancia could just run down now and follow her parent's carriage. Yes. Yes!

She ran back to get her shoes and tied them up with shaking, eager fingers. She brushed her hair with her mother's hairbrush and pinched her cheeks like she'd seen her mother do. Then she flew back out the door just in time to see the gate closed. Good!

She flew down the stairs and grabbed the handle, easing it open and seeing her parent's carriage ride away. She peeked around her to make sure no one was around and dashed through, pulling it tight behind her. Then she started running, following the carriage.

But a carriage is a hard thing for little girls to keep up with. After a few minutes, Constancia was getting tired and had to rest. The carriage had already gone out of sight and Constancia was suddenly struck with the thought that she didn't actually know the way to the Jimenez hacienda.

 _I can just follow the tracks_ , she thought and hurried along them, but a wind was coming up and the dusty road not only mussed her dress but covered the tracks.

Constancia only then realized what she'd done and sank down by the side of the road and cried.


	2. Chapter 2

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Two: Age Eleven

* * *

_A little_

_A lot_

_(He loves me)_ _Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"Were you hurt?"_

* * *

Constancia de la Torre was hopping from foot to foot, desperately trying to get sight of what was happening

"Constancia!" She heard a call, and turned. Jaime was there, looking anxious. "Constancia, what are you doing here? Don't you know it's dangerous?"

"I don't care," she said recklessly. "I wanted to see the race up close for once."

Jaime just looked at her, then at the crowd in front of her. "You can't even see over their heads. Don't you see that it would be smarter to have stayed on the hill?"

"It wasn't close enough!"

"Your father sent me to find you," Jaime continued doggedly. "If we go back now, we'll still see the end of the race."

"Jaime, that's never enough," she wailed, and felt tears come into her eyes. At first, she started to brush them away, but then realized they could be used to her advantage and let them brim over.

"Take me to the finish line, to the woods by it, just this once!"

Jaime looked at her, torn. "Oh, Constancia, I will get in so much trouble!"

"Please, Jaime, just this once! Besides, you are leaving so soon Who knows when I will get this chance again?"

When she mentioned his impending departure for school, he looked up suddenly and his eyes were on fire.

Jaime didn't want to go to school.

"I will take you," he exclaimed and grabbed her hand. Together, they ducked through the crowd and hurried their way to the finish line.

"We'll have to run across," Jaime shouted, and his hand squeezed hers. "Hurry, before we see any riders!"

"Si, Jaime," she panted. They were almost to the other side when they heard the thunder of hooves and the shouts of the riders.

For some inexplicable reason, Constancia stopped while Jaime continued, and she let her hand be pulled from his.

Constancia turned, with wide eyes, to see horses coming towards her at an alarming rate.

"Constancia!" She heard Jaime shout, but she couldn't move, she was transfixed by the sight of horse and rider bearing down on her, until she realized what was about happen and opened her mouth to scream.

But she never got that far. Jaime knocked her down at the last minute, and at the last minute the horse and rider skirted around them.

Then there was a terrible commotion. Everyone was shouting and screaming and Constancia was crushed in her mother's arms.

The winner came over, shaken, and asked if she was aright. He already wore the garland, and when she said she was, he gave her one of the flowers.  
Jaime was in more trouble than Constancia was. When she saw him last, he was being led away by his angry parents.

* * *

That night, in bed, she took the flower and Jaime's face came to mind. She began a chant said by her friends. "He loves me a little, he loves me a lot…"

She ended with passionately. She wasn't sure she believed it, but Jaime must love her somewhat to have jumped liked that to save her.

She'd always remember that moment.

And it was well that she vowed that, for it was to be the last time she saw him for years.


	3. Chapter 3

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Three: Age Twelve

* * *

_A little_

__(He loves me)_ A lot_

_Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"I'm not interested in explanations."_

* * *

Constancia de la Torre lay on her bed, anxiously pulling the petals from a flower. Her cousin, Honoria, lay next to her, and they were both watching the progress of the flower and chanting, "He loves me a little, a lot, passionately, to madness, not at all. He loves me a little, a lot!"

The last petal pulled off at 'a lot'. Constancia giggled, bouncing on the bed to a sitting position. "He loves me a lot, Honoria, I knew it! I knew Jose did!"

Honoria shook her head. "You can't depend on a flower, Constancia! It's silly! What you should do is see him. See how he acts around you."

Constancia narrowed her eyes at her cousin's supposed wisdom. "I believe in the flower," she murmured. "It is enough for me. What's more, I'll always believe it."

Honoria just frowned. "I need to go soon. Our mothers will be done talking now." She got off the bed and walked to the mirror, smoothing her dress. "Do you think your mother will let you put your hair up any time soon?" As she said it, she arranged her own above her head and pinned it there, using pins from Constancia's dresser. "I know my mother won't."

Constancia nodded and jumped from the bed. "My mother won't let me either." She, too, picked up pins and styled her hair. "This makes us look so much older," she sighed. "If we went into the pueblo, everyone would think we were fifteen, at least!"

"They'd think you were fifteen," Honoria said, and in the mirror she pointed to Constancia's more pronounced curves.

Constancia blushed, but it was clear she was pleased. "You are taller," she reminded and Honoria scoffed.

"Who likes tall women?" Honoria asked, and started to take the pins back out. "Oh, well."

Downstairs, she heard a call and turned to her cousin. "I will see you on Sunday, Constancia."

"Sunday, of course," and the two girls hugged tightly. Constancia saw her out, leaning over the rail to watch her cousin leave.

With light footsteps, she skipped down to the kitchen, where Agustina was preparing dinner.

"Has Jose come yet?" She asked breathlessly and Agustina shook her head.

"You have been asking for him lately," the older woman began. "Is there something happening between you two?"

Constancia shook her head, her cheeks pink. "No, not like that."

"Good. He is too old and too poor."

"He is only seventeen," Constancia protested. "Do you think he will come soon?"

"He usually does come around now," Agustina replied. "Unless he gets caught up at the tavern."

"Agustina! Do you really think he goes to the tavern? To drink"

"Of course," she replied relentlessly. "And stays to watch the dancers. Listen to me, Constancia, he—"

But outside came the unmistakable sound of wheels. Constancia's eyes widened. "He is coming!"

"He's just the butcher's son!" Agustina cried. "Not for you!"

"I don't care," Constancia breathed and flew out the back door, to where a handsome, muscled young man was jumping down from a cart.

"Buenos dias, Jose."

He looked surprised to see her. "Buenos dias, Senorita de la Torres."

"Oh, call me Constancia!" She begged.

He shouldered his load. "I don't think so, Senorita." He walked past her to the kitchen, not even looking twice at her.

Constancia pouted visibly, wondering what to do as she listened to Agustina inspect the meat and pay him. He came back out, pocketing the money, and this time he looked at her, with a lazy smile.

"So why would a don's daughter wish to be called by her given name by a butcher?"

Constancia felt dumbfounded. He'd never actually spoken to her before. "Class does not mean that much," she began. "Not to me."

His eyes widened, and then, so did his smile. "Good."


	4. Chapter 4

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Four: Age Fifteen

* * *

_A little_

__(He loves me)_ _ _A lot_

_Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"I'll treasure this always."_

* * *

Constancia watched the way her dress spun and she almost couldn't believe this day had come.

Today was her fifteenth birthday. Today she was a woman. With a happy laugh, she dashed to her dresser and put on the jewelry laying there. Small diamond earrings and a necklace with an emerald in the center. There were part of her dowry, from her grandmother. And today, they became hers. Hers!

Her mother entered, smiling, smelling of perfume as always and she walked straight to Constancia and took her hands.

"You look so grown up, _mi hija._ I cannot believe my baby is a woman."

"But I am," Constancia said proudly. "And tonight, I dance!"

"Si, you do. May I give you my gift?"

"Oh, _mamacita_ , what is it?" Constancia asked eagerly, pulling her hands from her mother's.

"I know you like perfume. I brought you a bottle of my rose scent, and the roses it was made from." Her mother darted away and returned with a tiny bottle and a bouquet of beautiful white roses.

Constancia didn't know which to take first, so her mother put the perfume on the dresser. "Take the flowers. I want to see how you'll look with them."

Constancia gathered them into her arms and inhaled deeply, letting their perfume intoxicate her. "Oh, _mamacita_ , they are so wonderful!"

Her mother was staring at her with a wondering look on her face. "Stand right there, Constancia. I want your father to see you like this."

Constancia giggled, and shifted the flowers in her arms. After a moment, she tucked them into the crook of her arm and took one.

"He loves me a little, a lot, passionately, to madness, not at all. He loves me a little, a lot..." It stopped there and Constancia smiled. Today was going to be wonderful.

And her flowers agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Five: Age Seventeen

* * *

_A little_

_A lot_

_Passionately_

_To madness_

__(He loves me)_ Not at all—_from a French game

* * *

_"I'll throw a dress into a saddlebag."_

* * *

"He does love me," Constancia protested. Honoria shook her head, tired of trying to convince her cousin.

"Be that as it may, your father does not like him. This is a foolish scheme, Constancia. You shouldn't do it. Besides, don't you want a fancy wedding, like mine will be? That's always been what you wanted!"

"No," Constancia began. "No, I wanted fancy dresses to wear every day, and I wanted a handsome husband. But if I get those, and I will, what need have I of a fancy wedding? Besides, his love will be enough."

"Prove it," Honoria said tiredly and began brushing her hair.

"Fine!" Constancia snapped. Her eyes flew around the room, finally landing on the vase of flowers on her dresser. _Of course!_

She grabbed a flower. "This has always worked before!" She said triumphantly. "You just watch! It will end with passionately, or even to madness!"

She hurriedly started tearing and chanting. There were more petals than she'd expected and she chewed her lip when it got to the part where there were only a few petals left. "A lot, passionately, to madness...not at all."

Honoria couldn't help but laugh at the result, leaving her embarrassed, and now angry cousin, to fly at her.

"Don't laugh! It was wrong, that's all! I'll do another!" She insisted and Honoria stopped laughing.

"I'm sorry, Constancia," she chortled. "But you've always believed that silly flower game before. Please, don't stop now."

Constancia's disappointment smoldered into anger. "Get out," she snapped.

"But I'm sleeping over!"

"Sleep in the nursery," Constancia said shrilly. "But get out before I—"

Honoria stood. "Fine, I'll go. But don't tell me your silly eloping plans any more. I don't want to hear them."

Once Honoria was gone, Constancia took another flower. "It will work this time," she muttered fiercely, but it ended with a little.

Again and again, she tried, until she was so frustrated she dumped the whole vase out onto the bed and stayed up past midnight tearing and chanting.

Without fail, it came out as a little or not at all, down to the last flower.

Constancia practically cried herself to sleep.

It was the first time the flowers had failed her.


	6. Chapter 6

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Six: Age Eighteen

* * *

_(He loves me)_ _A little_

_A lot_

_Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"Didn't you love me, even a little?"_

_"You know, I did. A little."_

* * *

Miguel toppled into the water with a splash, and Constancia returned the sword to Zorro, feeling invigorated and happy but heartbroken. They collected her dowry and other things and then rode back to shore, in silence. He helped her onto Tornado, secured the dowry in front of her and then walked beside her.

"Zorro," she began, slowly. "Was it very stupid of me? To love Miguel? To let myself be so taken in?"

"Loving someone is never stupid," Zorro said, after a moment. "Love is a beautiful thing. No matter how badly something ends, it was worth it. It was not stupid to love him."

She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep herself from crying. "Zorro," she began again. "Do you know how I feel right now?"

"Betrayed."

"No, I mean, have you felt like this?"

"Yes," he replied. "I have. And my heart has broken many other times also, from things besides betrayal. But this does not mean that I am stupid. It means that I trusted the world and trusted the woman I gave my heart that she would not break it. But she did. And sometimes, it was not her fault."

He paused. "Love is a funny thing, Constancia. But no matter what, it is always worth it. Give your heart freely, _querida,_ just use your sense next time, also. Make sure that the man you give it to is a good man. He can also be smart and handsome, and good with a sword, or whatever you like. But the thing he needs to be, _querida,_ is good. Pick someone who loves you and pick someone who loves God. That's what you need."

Constancia listened quietly. "When does it stop hurting?"

"It can take a long time. For the woman I loved most, it was almost a year before my heart stopped hurting when I thought of her. But now, I can remember her and be happy. And maybe someday you can remember this trip and be happy, that you figured out Miguel in time and didn't give him your dowry as well as your heart."

* * *

_"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishing." Anaïs Nin_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister's critique of this chapter is that these words would be more likely to come from Diego's mouth, not Zorro's. I rationalize this away by saying that since Constancia treats Diego and Zorro the same, without preference for either, I think Zorro would have done the same for her, and tried to comfort her, whether the mask was on or not.


	7. Chapter 7

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Seven: Age Eighteen

* * *

_(He loves me) A little_

_A lot_

_Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"Could I rest a bit?"_

* * *

Constancia's ride back to Santa Clara should have been pleasant. There was a handsome passenger to get to know, she didn't have to worry about her dowry— _had the de la Vegas taken it off on purpose?_ —and the weather was lovely the whole way, causing no delays.

But for whatever reason, she had headaches the whole way, and nightmares when she slept. Not the kind of nightmares where you wake up screaming, no, the kind where you wake up gasping for breath and can't dismiss as easily as the others.

It was the last day of the journey, and Ciro came up to her; Ciro was her handsome traveling companion.

"Are you doing well, Senorita de la Torre? You look so tired."

"I am tired, but other than that, I am perfect," Constancia said, looking up at him and smiling. She did like him. He'd been the perfect gentleman the whole ride, and at the inns, he'd played draughts with her when she'd been reluctant to go upstairs and sleep.

"Come along, then, it's time to go," he said, offering her his arm. She hesitated before taking it, and then her hand went to her forehead.

"I—can we wait a moment? Does the driver really have to leave now?"

Ciro let her fall back onto the stoneware bench. "I'll ask him," he said as he leaned over her.

Constancia didn't like being this kind of girl, the one who professed headaches and fainted at the drop of a handkerchief.

She didn't like being the one to delay the carriage.

But her head was splitting and it was all she could do to keep from crying.

As a last thought, she picked a flower from the vase on the table, and twirled it in her hands, smelling its perfume, and that briefly alleviated the pain in her head.

Ciro was taking a long time coming back.

She plucked a petal off, was about to say the words, and then...

She just didn't want to. She placed the flower back in the vase and stood.

Headache or not, she was ready to go. Now.


	8. Chapter 8

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Eight: Age Eighteen

* * *

_(He loves me) A little_

_A lot_

_Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"Zorro!"_

_"Senorita. Can you hold this?"_

* * *

Constancia hurried through the house, searching, seeking...

"Aha!" She cried, spying the little girl.

Hortensia squealed and hurried from her hiding place. "No, Constancia, let me win!" She begged as she ran, on fat little legs, outside to the patio.

But Constancia caught her up, growling and spinning her around. "If you win, you have to do it honestly," she told the little girl, and planted a kiss on the top of her head, before stumbling backwards when a headache caught her.

"Constancia?" Hortensia asked, worry in her voice. "Another headache?"

"Si," Constancia whispered. She'd been home two months. Her family had been more welcoming and forgiving than she'd expected; her father had been tender, even, when he spoke of her experience.

For whatever reason, she wasn't being blamed for the escapade, but, for whatever reason, she wanted to be blamed. It was her fault.

"I need to sit down," Constancia said, weakly groping for a chair in back of her, but missed it and slipped to the floor instead.

Hortensia's grandmother came in then; Agustina, the cook. Hortensia's parents had died a year ago and the little girl had been living here since then.

"Constancia!" Agustina exclaimed. "Hortensia! Did the game get so rough?"

Constancia madly nodded when Hortensia looked to her for instruction.

"Si, _abuela_. We were running and Constancia tripped." She looked to the woman and Constancia smiled.

"I'm really all right," she said, standing up and letting the next wave of pain hit her.

Agustina didn't look quite satisfied, but since she'd come to fetch Hortensia, she did just that, leaving Constancia on the patio.

Once alone, a little whimper escaped Constancia and she hated herself for it.

 _El Zorro_ had trusted her to be strong. He would never give in to such a little thing as a headache.


	9. Chapter 9

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Nine: Age Nineteen

* * *

_A little_

_(He loves me)_ _A lot_

_Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

 _Castanets and guitars and the light from stars above, cast a spell, who can tell, we might even fall in love_!

* * *

She wasn't sure where he'd come from, but suddenly, there he was, at her side, smiling.

"Would you dance with me?"

"I don't think we've been introduced," she protested, over the noise of the party.

"Constancia, don't you recognize me?"

And suddenly, she did. "Jaime! What are you doing here? Aren't you still in school?"

"No, I'm back, as of, oh, yesterday. My father wanted to give a party, but your party was tonight and he thought it was just as well."

Jaime looked just as she remembered him, tall, thin and angular, but there was an undeniable charm to his smile. She let him take her hand and lead her to the floor. Throughout the evening, he remained at her side; not dazzling her as Miguel did, but instead warming her heart with every kind word and remembrance of times past.

Last time she'd seen him, he had rescued her from a runaway horse.

This time, he was rescuing her from a broken heart, for in that instant, she forgot all about loving Miguel, forever.

* * *

When she went upstairs, she picked up a flower for the first time in six months. After a moment of hesitation, she softly tore and chanted, but when it only landed on 'a lot', she just smiled and undressed.

While she enjoyed it, she couldn't bring herself to trust it very much.

And yet...

it had been right about Miguel.


	10. Chapter 10

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Ten: Age Nineteen

* * *

_A little_

_A lot_

_(He loves me)_ _Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"Diego, I have learned my lesson. I'm gonna wait for someone as handsome, and as nice as you are."_

* * *

Constancia waited in tense expectation. "Can I open my eyes yet, Jaime?"

"No, you may not. I need to get this line right."

She bounced on her toes, unable to keep still. "Please, Jaime!"

"You can look," he announced and her eyes flew open.

"Jaime, it's wonderful!" She exclaimed, staring in wonder at the painting before her. She reached to touch it, but Jaime swatted her hand away.

"Constancia, the paint is still wet!"

She blushed and pulled her hand away. "I forgot."

"You forget very often," Jaime reminded her, but his scolding was good-natured.

Constancia studied the painting. It was of a bowl of flowers that she had arranged last week, and placed in a spot of sunshine. Jaime had gotten everything right, from the way the sun shone through the petals to how the water sparkled. Constancia sighed.

"Can I keep this?"

"No, it's going to be a present."

She whirled around to face him, skirts fluttering. "A present? For who?"

"My bride."

"You are getting married?" She asked, in disbelief.

Jaime shrugged. "My father wishes me to. All I need to do now is pick a bride."

Constancia's eyes widened, and then she paused, biting her lip. "Do you have anyone specific in mind?" She asked, in a small voice.

"Someone very specific."

"Does she know yet?"

"No, I'm not going to tell her for a while," Jaime explained. Constancia nodded, as Hortensia came running into the room.

"Senorita Constancia," she called, and there were tears on her cheeks. "Carlos is being mean again."

"Did you do what I told you to?" Constancia inquired, crouching down. "Just tell him you aren't afraid, and if he's still mean, punch him in the nose!"

"He laughed!" Hortensia wailed. "And then he was meaner!"

Jaime was frowning, and he suddenly took over. "I'll speak to him," he announced. "Just let me find my sword."

"You will defend my honor?" Hortensia gasped.

"To the death!" Jaime vowed. "Let's go and beat some sense into him."

Constancia watched them leave, not letting herself laugh until they had gone. Jaime was so wonderful! The woman who married him would be...

Cursed, if Constancia had anything to do with it.


	11. Chapter 11

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Age Nineteen

* * *

_A little_

_A lot_

_(He loves me)_ _Passionately_

_To madness_

_Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"We're special people."_

* * *

On the most beautiful day in the world, Jaime took Constancia for a ride in his carriage.

The sky was blue, the sun was shining and the whole of creation seemed to be wishing them good luck, for Jaime had a very special plan for the day.

She'd sneaked off, so no nosy _duena_ was shadowing them, and besides, Jaime was an old friend, and to be married soon, as soon as he picked a bride.

Constancia didn't see that they needed a duena, though she would've liked it they had needed one, knowing what that would mean.

They strolled along. Constancia was in a delicate lace dress and Jaime was in a fancier suit than usual. Constancia couldn't help but love the red cloth, and the gold braid on it. He looked wonderful.

"Constancia, there is something I must speak to you about," he began, and his voice was softer than usual.

"What, Jaime?"

"You know when I said that picture I painted would be a gift for my bride?"

"Si, I do." She wished he hadn't brought that up.

"There was something I didn't mention, on that day. I did have someone in mind, you know that, but I didn't tell you who. Now I want to."

Constancia clutched her parasol so tightly it almost hurt. He couldn't marry someone else! "Who, Jaime?"

"You." He moved to stand in front of her. "I love you so much it hurts. I've always loved you and I need to know if you love—"

The only reason Constancia had been still was because she was in shock. The instant she realized what he was saying, down went the parasol and she lunged at him, pulling his head down to her height and kissing him as hard as she could, clutching him around the neck with her arms.

His hands went to her waist, and as he straightened he took her with him. "I'm thinking that's a yes," he gasped, and Constancia nodded.

"It always was," she whispered, and he lowered her. Arm in arm, they walked, picking up the parasol as they went back to the road.

* * *

They stopped in Santa Clara for a moment. Jaime was meeting someone in the tavern and Constancia waited in the carriage, dreamily thinking over the events.

She was startled back into the world when a voice next to her drawled, "Constancia."

Her eyes flew open and she saw a drunken, filthy vaquero standing there, staring at her.

"It would be Senorita de la Torres to you," she snapped, straightening up and making herself as tall as possible.

"Oh, no, you told me long ago it was Constancia." He returned, his eyes narrowing.

She looked at him in disgust, then confusion. "Jose?" She asked slowly. "What has happened to you?"

"Jose? Wouldn't it be Senor Gomez?"

She became aware that it really wasn't proper to be speaking to him like this, out in the open, and she really didn't want to be speaking to him. "Pardon, Senor Gomez, but I think I see my—"

Noticing her tone, he stepped forward and grabbed her arm. "Constancia," he hissed, and she could smell his drunken breath. "Remember that day?"

"Let go of me," she said, still reluctant to make a scene, but wishing that they were more people in the pueblo at this time of day.

"I don't think so," he hissed.


	12. Chapter 12

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Age Nineteen

* * *

_A little_

_A lot_

_Passionately_

_(_ He loved me _) To madness_

 _Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"Amo que paso, I can love no other."_

* * *

It was a long time before Constancia let herself think about that day, but that didn't mean she didn't dream about it.

She had many nightmares about it, almost every night, but she didn't mind because it meant she got to see Jaime again. And it always started the same...he proposed to her, they drove to the pueblo and then...and then it happened.

She even let herself dream through that part, but she always woke up at the end, gasping and crying and feeling like her heart was permanently cracked.

_Oh, Jaime...why did you do it? It was madness._

But Jaime hadn't thought when he'd seen her with Jose. He'd just run forward and Jose had paused and then Jaime had flown through the air and his head had made such an ominous thud.

Constancia heard that sound everywhere, asleep or not. And she saw the sight over and over, of Jaime flying to the ground, never to get up again.

Constancia felt like she was going mad, and she wanted to go mad. Even months after it had happened, it was all she could think about, asleep or awake and it consumed her.

She was barely living, but she wasn't dying, which she wouldn't have minded.

It was with that thought in mind that her family sent her to Los Angeles for a visit, almost a year after...Jaime.


	13. Chapter 13

To Madness

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Age Twenty

* * *

_A little_

_A lot_

_Passionately_

_(He_ loved _me)_ _To madness_

 _Not at all—_ from a French game

* * *

_"I do not think you should ask the senorita to swim. The night air is too chilly."_

* * *

Constancia had finally escaped from the de la Vega hacienda, after a day of muted words and compassion that she couldn't stand right now. Oh, they'd been so kind that it had driven her mad, sitting in the dining room and pretending everything was all right. Sergeant Garcia had come to dinner, as he had last year, and she had almost cried to see him, looking just as he had eighteen months ago, before anything had happened.

Life was cruel.

Constancia had been put on the ground floor this time; no one wanted the window to be too high or...

She wondered what else her father had told them.

Now she was wandering around in the night air, shawl clutched tightly around her, and trying to keep the tears at bay. As she walked, she let memories of Jaime overtake her, and a hand went to her forehead to massage the headache appearing there.

Si, those had returned also.

Life seemed dull, wretched now, and this was the first spot of freedom she'd had for a year. Her father had caught onto how things stood fairly quickly, and she hadn't been left alone.

 _But he hadn't told the de la Vegas enough,_ she thought with bitter satisfaction and continued walking, until she reached a bridge.

She walked idly to the middle, looking down to see water lilies and clutched her shawl so tight that when she released it her hands were numb and it fell to the ground. Without thinking, almost without thinking, she carefully climbed up to the railing and stood there a moment before she let her balance break and felt herself falling, falling...

Something, or someone, grabbed her around the legs, then her torso and then she was dragged off, and then fell to the ground. And Zorro stood above her.

She blinked up at him, eyes red with tears, and now anger. "How dare you?" He hissed, and she startled. "Your life is not your own to be treated like this."

She struggled to her feet. "Zorro, oh please, tell me the same things you told me before. Has this ever happened to you? Did the only man, pardon, woman who ever truly loved you die? Was her life knocked out of her before your very eyes? Did the murderer get away? Please, Zorro, say yes, and maybe I won't kill you."

Her voice was shaking with fury, and Zorro grabbed her by the arms. "I repeat, your life is not your own, Senorita. I understand that you are hurting beyond my comprehension, but, _querida,_ this is not the answer."

As his voice gentled, her anger melted away and suddenly she was crying uncontrollably, and he pulled her to him. "Come along, _querida._ This helped you last time," and he scooped her up into his arms and led her to his horse. "Let's take a ride," he murmured, and she let him boost her onto the white horse's back, then climbed on himself.

He started out slowly, like he'd gone last time, but gradually he sped up, until they were flying, almost, and suddenly she was clutching at Zorro's arm, placed protectively in front of her, and feeling...well, feeling again.

"Do you think Jaime would wish you to act like you just did?" Zorro asked, his voice close to her ear. "When he gave up so much?"

She felt the tears come again, but they fell gently now and her voice didn't tremble. "He...no, he wouldn't."

"Do you think that you will feel that urge again?"

As the horse ran faster, she felt her heart speed up in reaction to it. "I'm not sure how to answer that," she whispered.

His arm tightened. "I was afraid, Constancia, when I saw you on that bridge. I have rescued many people from death, but you know that this was different."

She nodded, and suddenly, she let a smile come to her lips. "Jaime once said to me, long ago, that I would never marry. We were arguing and I was being a shrew and he said that to get back at me. I guess he was right."

"Constancia..."

"No, it's...that's how I want to remember him," she said, the tears still falling. "And that's how I'll heal."

_Healing, no, that was too easy a word. Reconstruction, si. Reconstruction would take a long, long time, but..._

thanks to Zorro, she still had the rest of her life.

* * *

_The End. For now._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something in which Constancia grew up, and just Miguel obviously didn't do that, hence Adios, everybody!
> 
> I liked both of Annette Funicello's characters. It took me longer for me to get to that point, but once I did, I admired them immensely. She brought something to her characters that wasn't in the others, the way that I saw it, and I pitied the fact that she is largely abandoned in fanfiction and forums about Disney's Zorro.
> 
> Hence, this. I hope I did the character(s) justice and I dedicate it to the late Annette Funicello. May she rest in peace.


End file.
